


Rewriting Destiny

by BuckytheDucky



Series: CapIM Bingo [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Not Really Canon Compliant, Pre-Relationship, cw fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 06:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14847593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckytheDucky/pseuds/BuckytheDucky
Summary: When Steve wakes one morning after having a vivid dream, it's to find that he isn't the only one to have had that dream. Too real to ignore, the dream spurns the team into action - anything that can prevent the devastating consequences shown in the dream. Turns out, the events of the "Civil War" weren't just a dream, they were what was written in the stars, but someone else had a different ending in mind.





	Rewriting Destiny

His harsh gasp breaks the silence of the early morning as Steve sits up abruptly in his bed. The sheets tangle around his legs, tearing when he jerks his way out of them. He stares down at the scraps, near-shadows in the dim lighting coming from the windows. His heart pounds in his chest, and his blood rushes in his ears. He barely manages to hear JARVIS inquiring about his status over the chaos in his brain.

“I'm ー I'm fine, JARVIS, promise.” Steve draws in a breath that does little to calm him before pushing himself to his feet. “Is anyone else up?”

“Yes, Captain. Currently, all inhabitants are awake and making their ways toward the living room.”

“Good.”

The AI helpfully brings the lights up as Steve heads out of his room. True to JARVIS’s word, the others are in the living room within five minutes. All of them wear expressions that resemble exactly how Steve feels ー except for Natasha, but even she looks slightly shaken. She leans against Sam from their spot on the couch, with Clint resting his head on her lap; Wanda sits on the floor against the couch, her head bowed and Clint's fingers brushing lightly over her hair. Thor stretches out along the other sofa, and Bruce is curled up in an armchair, his hunched form making him look smaller than usual. Only Tony remains standing, after Steve takes a seat on the ottoman. Nobody speaks, but Steve can feel the confusion and fear roiling off of them in waves. Tony catches his eye, jerks his head toward the kitchen. Steve follows.

“So, what the hell is this?” he asks once they're both safely tucked away by the coffeemaker.

“I… I don't know. Did, did you ー?”

“Have a dream that everything got fucked up, we all chose sides and fought against each other, and you and Barnes left me for dead in, where was it, Siberia or some place equally as frozen over?”

Steve recoils but he can't argue; that's exactly what he'd dreamed, as well, and it hurts him to his core that Tony had had the same vision in his sleep. “Yeah, uh, that.”

“Is it true?”

“Yeah,” answers Steve after a pregnant pause. There's no reason to ask Tony for clarification, there's only one thing he could be wanting to know.

“How long have you known?”

“Only a couple months. I figured it out when Coulson gave me files to go over, help me acclimate to what the world has gone through,what the _team_ has gone through, while I was in the ice.”

“Were you going to tell me?” Tony's gaze is sharp, pinning Steve to his place, and Steve has to nod, he can't speak. “When?”

“I don't know. I tried, I did, but I didn't know how to. I can try to say I did it for you, but… I was selfish. I can't lie about that, not any more. I was selfish and didn't want to tarnish what I know of Bucky. I mean, I know it wasn't _him_ , because the Bucky I knew would never do that, but it was something that some version of him did. I was selfish, and I hurt you in the process of saving my memory of a man who fell seventy years ago. I am, I am so damn sorry, Tony.”

Tony stares at Steve, his expression unchanging, but then he slowly exhales and nods succinctly. “Okay. That, that's something I'll learn to deal with. Hey, maybe I’ll even go to therapy, Pepper's been hounding me about that for a long time now. Anyway. What should we do?”

“First, we find out if the others dreamed the same thing.”

“Then?”

“Then we deal with it.”

“Together?” Tony asks with a raised brow, but it doesn't sound as sarcastic as Steve would have anticipated.

“Together.”

Of course the others dreamed the same thing. Steve holds his head in his hands as they all speak over one another about what the dream could have meant. JARVIS interrupts after an hour, alerting everyone to the War Machine’s presence on the landing pad. Tony disappears from the living room and returns moments later with Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes in tow. The man looks shocked, his body shaking minutely, and he stays close to Tony, even as he joins in the conversation.

“Steve?”

At Natasha's voice, the others fall silent and turn to stare at him. Steve flounders a bit. What the hell would he know about planning for something like this? This is completely out of his repertoire of knowledge. But looking around at them, knowing they're relying on some sort of leadership in this, he realises he can't shy away from the responsibility.

“Okay. We've all had the same dream. Let's just, let's not worry about it right now. Tony, can you have JARVIS attempt contact with anyone who might know something about this? Thor, same for you, but with Asgard?”

“Of course,” Thor responds, his grip tightening around Mjølnir, as Tony waves a hand toward the ceiling and JARVIS voices his assent.

"Clint, call Coulson, please. Make sure he doesn't try to involve Fury or Hill. I want this kept in-house. Get in touch with Ms Potts, Natasha, and see if she'll bring a few of their legal team along, if you're okay with that, Tony?”

“Yeah, we'll need them.”

Once the roles are handed out, Clint and Natasha slip from the room almost immediately, and Thor strides heavily toward the elevator to get to the landing pad. A lightning strike flashes, thunder cracks, and he's gone, leaving behind the fading brilliance of a rainbow. Bruce silently leaves, most likely heading for his lab. Tony gives Steve a tight-lipped smile and tugs Rhodes through the doorway. Sam raises an eyebrow.

“How did he take it?”

“Better than I ever had a right to expect. But he's a damn good actor, so I don't know for sure what's real and what he's hiding.”

“Trust me, you'll find out eventually. Mostly because JARVIS will punish you.”

“Excuse me, Mr Wilson, but I would do no such thing.”

Steve forces a soft laugh at how offended the AI sounds at the accusation, but he isn't much in a joking mood. The dark cloud of the shared dream hangs heavily over all of their heads; he stands and starts pacing the room, unable to sit still. Sam doesn't speak, lets Steve work through his thoughts on his own time.

“What if this is all just… What if this happens? For real?”

“It won't.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you and Tony are heading this thing. He's a genius, and you're stubborn. Nothing is gonna happen if you put your heads together and figure out a way to stop it.”

Steve inhales shakily, exhales slowly. “We can do this.”

“We can do this,” Sam repeats confidently, reassuringly.

Steve keeps that phrase looping in his brain like a mantra as he rifles through the fridge for breakfast; he isn't really hungry, his appetite is gone in the aftermath of the dream, but he knows everyone needs to eat, to keep their strength up. Sam helps plate the food and set the table, and asks that JARVIS alert the others to the meal. Tony and Rhodes are the first to amble back into the kitchen, Tony talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows it's for Rhodes's benefit, to help keep his mind off of the situation. Bruce is next, his focus intently on a tablet, but he sets it aside in order to eat. Coulson, Clint, and Natasha come in as a group, all three silent.

No one speaks until the last bite of scrambled eggs and bacon are gone; Coulson pulls a legal pad from the briefcase Steve hadn't known he was even carrying, and everyone shifts in their seats, a minute change in the atmosphere. The time for fear is gone. Now it's time for business. Steve lets the others tell the story in halting sentences, unable to put his thoughts into words.

“What are we thinking, then?” asks Coulson pleasantly, blandly, no judgment in his tone.

“We need to make sure thisー this dream or vision or whatever, doesn't actually happen,” Steve announces, and the others nod or murmur their agreement. “I think we need to draft a version of the, what were they called?, Accords that we can live with.”

“Where's Sabrina?” Tony questions, looking around the room, and Steve realises with a start that he hasn't seen Wanda at all since this morning.

“She's in her room, trying to calm down. She's terrified.”

Steve nods at Clint's words. “Okay, can you go visit her, take a plate of food, and let her know?”

“On it.”

It takes four hours of arguing and planning, compromising and standing firm, before things get out of hand. Their voices are rising in volume, overlapping, and nobody is listening to anybody except for what they want to hear. Finally, Tony slams his hands on the table, and the forgotten dishes rattle with the impact.

Tony's voice is sharp as he snaps out, "We need a break, because this isn't working. Cap, go to the gym, destroy shit, I don't care, but get your ass out of here. JARVIS, where is Pepper?”

“Ms Potts is currently in the jet on her way from Malibu. She will be arriving in roughly half an hour.”

“Good, good. Thirty minutes, kids.”

Steve storms from the table, anger and frustration roiling in his belly. They had finally reached an agreement on the oversight of the Avengers: They won't go to other countries to help unless specifically asked for, which makes sense. No country wants a foreign group barging in and trying to fix things but ultimately only screwing everything up even more. But then Bucky ー The Winter Soldier ー had come up, and the discussion had fallen apart. Coulson had said that SHIELD would want custody of the Soldier for the foreseeable future, Rhodes, Wanda, and Natasha had agreed. Sam, Clint, and, shockingly, even Tony had disagreed with that. Steve was in the “vehemently against” category, but he was biased, or so everyone said. Bruce doesn't feel comfortable making a decision like that; he said he's firmly in neutral territory, since he knows what it feels like to be hounded and hunted and threatened with imprisonment, but there needs to be something protecting everyone from the Winter Soldier and the danger he presents.

By the time Sam comes to get him, Steve has beaten three bags to a pile of fabric and sand. His knuckles ache and burn under the wrapping, and there's a dull thrum of pain in his muscles, evidence of the force behind his actions. He unwraps his hands as he heads toward the door, letting the pink-tinged fabric fall into the trash can on his way out. Steve drops down into his chair in the kitchen and watches the bruised, scraped skin on his hands smoothing out, losing its raw appearance. Tony nudges Steve's calf with a foot, warm and solid against the bared flesh, and Steve forces a smile. Coulson taps his knuckles against the tabletop and waits for everyone's attention.

“Steve, I know it's hard to hear, but Barnes… He's not your friend any more. At least, not the same way. He may still have himself down inside, but that's been covered up and brainwashed into a weapon. It really is in everyone's best interest if SHIELD has him, just until we're sure it's safe.”

“SHIELD isn't SHIELD, though, Agent,” says Tony; it isn't threatening, it isn't even particularly forceful, it's simply a fact. “SHIELD has had HYDRA in its midst for, Hell, since its inception. You guys couldn't suss that out at any time during the last century. No offence, but how the hell can you assume HYDRA still isn't involved? These double-agents are very good at the long con, and you can never tell if they're genuinely on board with SHIELD, or if they're just waiting for the chance to do some damage from the inside out.”

“And what do you propose, Stark? Letting him remain on the loose?”

Tony levels Natasha with a withering look. “Of course not. That would be stupid.”

“Then what's your plan?”

“Bringing him to the tower. No, don't roll your eyes, Katniss, you know if I want to keep someone out, I can. No, look, I can set up an area on the residential floors, block off all technology and access to weapons, sensitive information, what have you, take everything away that can be used in any potential way, leave only JARVIS still attached, still monitoring. That way everyone is safe from any potential threat from Barnes, but Barnes is also not stuck in some isolated room, cut off from everyone except whatever head doctors SHIELD can scrounge up in the aftermath of the info dump.” Tony sighs, leans forward. “I can find people who can help, really, JARVIS is so much better at digging for information about people than anyone in your organisation is, which, by the way, Fury was supposed to dismantle SHIELD, but you're still operating, which means HYDRA has plenty of chance to infiltrate again.”

Coulson stares at Tony, everyone stares at Tony, and Steve waits with bated breath for someone, anyone, to speak. Ms Potts remains silent, her lips thin in her face; Rhodes rolls his eyes but claps a hand to Tony's shoulder; Tony seems to wilt just a little under the apparent approval, and just like that, the others announce their agreement, even if it's a bit reluctant. Coulson nods once succinctly before looking down to make a note on the legal pad. Tony calls out for JARVIS to show the list of the compromises that will make up the Accords. The holoscreen hovers in the air above the table, and Steve reads over the points, a heady warmth growing in his gut at the final bullet: **_Custody and protection of James Barnes_**.

 _Tony did that_ , Steve thinks, and the words sound slightly hysterical even to himself. From the corner of his eye, he can see Tony watching him closely. Steve ignores him, too busy taking in the words on the screen, too busy feeling like maybe they can get through this together and in one piece. For the first time since he woke up this morning, Steve feels like he can actually breathe again and that the team will still be a team, a _family_ , at the end of this.

Coulson stands, and that signals the end of the impromptu meeting. Ms Potts follows the SHIELD agent out of the kitchen, Clint and Natasha close behind. Wanda forces a smile before disappearing down the hall, the lingering, faint glimmer of pinkish-red sparks the only evidence that she'd even been there. Steve drops his head to his hands and closes his eyes.

“You okay, Cap?”

Steve shrugs at Tony's words. “Yeah, fine. Just... overwhelmed.”

"It'll be fine,” Tony says, but Steve can tell he doesn't believe himself; this is a situation that's far beyond the realm of known, and they're both wandering blind. But he appreciates that Tony’s trying to comfort him.

A warm grip against his shoulder, then Tony’s gone as well. Rhodes gazes at Steve, his eyes narrowed. Steve feels small, like a dead bug on a microscope slide, but he remains still and unwavering under Rhodes’s scrutiny. Without a word, Rhodes turns on his heel and leaves Steve alone in the kitchen. He lets out a heavy sigh, lets his head drop to the tabletop. He finds himself wondering, not for the first time in the last six and a half hours if they can actually do this, if the team can beat whatever this thing is.

A week later, Steve stands by Tony’s side in front of the UN, the rest of the team close enough for Steve to feel the brush of their clothes each time they shift. The past seven days have been filled with hours together, going over every bullet point in the Accords to hammer out the details and get rid of any loopholes that can be exploited by more political agendas, conference calls and meetings with legal teams; Coulson had finally told Fury what was going on, leaving out the shared dream, after it became clear on the fourth day that the Avengers-drafted Accords were more than likely to be made into law. Tony’s fingers are wrapped tightly around Steve’s wrist, hidden from view by Clint and Natasha behind them and the table in front of them. It's not a new thing, not really, but it still sends a thrill through Steve to know that Tony trusts him to be the support, the rock on which they all, but especially Tony, can lean.

A relieved sigh gusts from Steve when it’s announced that the Accords have been accepted, that the majority of the United Nations assembly approved of the steps the Avengers are taking to keep themselves under control. A few members had questioned whether it was truly safe for custody of Bucky to be in Tony Stark’s hands; Tony had merely smiled that that wicked smile of his that says he’s playing along but desperately wants to rip someone to shreds, and Steve hadn’t hesitated ー he’d stood, back ramrod straight, and told the committee that no one could be trusted more than Tony Stark, and it was entirely unacceptable that Tony’s heroism and trustworthiness were being called into question.

“The situation with the Winter Soldier, also known as James Barnes, is a complex one, you must admit, Captain Rogers,” one of them says, leaning forward in his seat to pin Steve with a steady stare. “But, given that you and the rest of your team have come up with a viable plan, I suppose there will be no harm in allowing this. However, do keep in mind that we will be watching very, very closely.”

It’s over then. The Accords have been ratified, and one problem from the collective vision has been handled. Steve turns to face his team, lips twitching as he tries to stifle a smile. Clint doesn’t even bother attempting to hide the fact that he’s pleased with the outcome; even Natasha's mouth is slightly curved, her eyes sparkling as sidesteps the embrace that Thor is trying to bestow upon her. The man doesn't let her refusal slow him down ー he merely turns toward Sam, sweeping him up in a hug tight enough that Steve worries for Sam’s continued health.

“There is someone who would like to have a word with you, Captain Rogers.”

Steve turns. “Oh, yes, of course.”

He gestures for Tony to stay where he is before following after the woman, her bald head gleaming under the lights from above. When she comes to a stop, she stands beside an older man in a fitted suit, her posture familiar, one of a warrior on duty; the man's dark eyes study Steve from behind his glasses, and Steve finds himself almost wishing he had the shield on him. Suddenly, the man smiles and holds out a hand.

“Captain Rogers, I am T’Chaka, king of Wakanda. I believe we have much to discuss.”

It's then that everything goes to Hell. Glass shatters inward, screaming tearing through the thundering booming of the explosion. Steve ducks, fists wrapping in the king's jacket and yanking him down. But he is already falling, without control or grace, and Steve knows, knows without a doubt that this is the start of the chaos from the vision. The king is dead.

He doesn't glance up at the sound of repulsors whining to life, the _whoosh_ of the suit taking off through the glassless windows. Natasha is suddenly by Steve's side, her suit jacket already off and wadded up. Another man crawls nearer through the wreckage ー T’Challa, the prince. Steve makes sure that the situation is handled then takes off running for the exit. Sam and Clint are close behind. His phone rings in his pocket; he doesn't bother barking out a greeting.

_“Two blocks down, one block east, Cap.”_

Steve shoves the device back in his pocket, sprinting outright in the direction Tony gave. He stumbles to a stop twenty feet away and stares at the sight of the Iron Man armour standing still, one boot resting on the chest of Zemo and a gauntlet aimed at his face, repulsor glaringly bright and ready to shoot. The helmet is up, and Tony looks murderous.

“We've got him, Stark.” Sharon takes up position beside Tony, glances at Steve. “Thor has a message for you. You should go see what it is, _all of you_.”

The pointed look she gives him speaks volumes; Steve nods dumbly, slowly stepping back until he bumps into Sam. Clint latches a hand into the shoulder plate of the armour, and though his tugging has no physical effect, Tony does as he's asked after making sure Sharon and the other SHIELD agents are arresting Zemo.

Thor meets them at the edge of the destruction, expression grim, arms crossed across his massive chest as he watches medical personnel swarm the rubble. T'Challa joins after a moment; he stares at Steve. His eyes are hard, full of grief, and Steve's heart aches for the man's loss.

“He has been caught?”

“The man responsible for this? Yeah, SHIELD has him.”

“Guys, we gotta go. Ross is on-site. He's rallying up support, claiming Barnes is behind this.”

Tony glances at Natasha. “Then let's find Barnes before they do.”

“This is his last known place of residence,” announces Thor, handing over a slip of paper. “I can be there swiftly, Steve, just say the word and I will go.”

“I…”

“Clint, you take the non-fliers, meet me and Thor there. Cap, I promise, all we’ll do is keep a perimeter. We'll make sure he isn't provoked.”

And thank every God ever in existence for Tony being able to understand the confusion Steve is feeling, for knowing just how to find a reasonable solution. Steve nods, a jerky dip of his chin, and then he's off. He has the Quinjet prepped for departure before Clint, Natasha, and T'Challa arrive. The flight to the address Thor provided is tense, silent, and Steve barely manages to keep himself from pacing the jet's interior. When they land in a vacant lot beside two run-down buildings, Tony is waiting just like he promised, speaking quickly, quietly to JARVIS through the HUD. Thor is a statue, gaze firmly in the direction of where Bucky, according to Sharon, currently is; even if Steve didn't know Thor as well as he likes to think he does, he would be able to read Thor's emotions. The sky overhead is darkening rapidly, clouds moving in, coal-grey masses roiling and swirling, broken up only by quick flashes of lightning inside the bulk. Steve lays a hand on Thor's shoulder.

“You're going to have to calm down, Thor. This ー” he motions to the brewing storm. “ー is going to make people ask questions.”

“I shall try, but it is not easy. That someone would do their best to destroy someone, a _team_ …”

“Yeah, I know. But we're handling this. It isn't gonna happen. Just… Think of Jane, she needs you to stay calm so we can do this without civilian casualties or being arrested.”

Thor sighs, closes his eyes. Three deep breaths, and the clouds are breaking up, disappearing before their eyes. The slow roll of distant thunder still sounds, but Steve can't expect perfection. So he squeezes Thor's shoulder comfortingly and turns to face the others.

“I should go in alone.”

“Cap ー” Sam starts, and Steve shakes his head, cutting him off.

“I know he recognises me. I _know_ he knows who I am. If we all go in, he's going to be on the defensive. He's going to fight his way out, because he'll think we're here to capture him. But if it's just me, maybe we can talk, maybe I can reassure him that we're here for his safety.”

“We’ll stay near, Steve.” Natasha glances at T'Challa. “You sure you can be here? I know Ross is desperate for everyone to believe Barnes did this, and if he finds out you're here on a rescue mission instead of for vengeance…”

“Barnes did not kill my father. I will have my time with the man who did. Barnes is an innocent victim, just like everyone in that building, and I will not stand for him to be used as a pawn like this.”

Clint cuts in, peering over his shoulder as he scans their surrou. “We're starting to attract attention, Cap, we need to move.”

The staircase creaks ominously as Steve makes his way up; a door opens to his left on the second floor, and a little girl stares at him, eyes wide and frightened. He smiles but doesn't stop. When he finally gets to the apartment on the top floor, it's empty. Newspaper covers the windows, blocking out any potential sightlines, and the wood under his feet is warped and sagging slightly.

The notebook is laying right where it was in the dream, and this time, Steve doesn't thumb through it. He pockets it, heads to the floorboard he knows is hollow, and yanks up the covering. He's just gotten the backpack out and slid his arm through the strap when the sound of a shuffling footstep sounds behind him. He turns.

“Bucky, I know this looks bad, but I don't have a whole lotta time to explain right now. Just know we gotta get outta here.” Steve bites back a sigh. “You remember me?”

“You’re Steve.”

“Yeah, I am. And, normally, I'd want nothing more than to, to talk about this, but an explanation has to wait. Please, just trust me, okay?”

“You here to take me in?”

“I'm here to keep you from becoming a science experiment and prisoner for the government. You're not under arrest, not by me.”

“Then why do you have a team surrounding us?”

“They're with me to keep others off your back. Please, Buck, believe me. _Trust_ me.”

Steve holds out the bag, waiting impatiently. Bucky finally takes it, turning on his heel and walking out the door. Steve follows. Thankfully, Sam takes it upon himself to explain what's happening, why they're here for Bucky; Tony stays inside the 'jet this time, stays close to Steve.

“T'Challa says he might know of a way to help Barnes,” he announces on a quiet voice. “We'll talk more about it once we're back at the tower.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, lowers himself into one of the seats. Tony stays on his feet; a gauntleted hand rests on Steve's shoulder, the weight and pressure oddly reassuring, grounding.

Nobody speaks as they walk off the Quinjet and into the penthouse living room. Coulson and Ms Potts are already there, sitting on the couch and staring at something on the table in front of them.

“No.”

“Buck?”

“Get rid of it. Please, get it away.”

Steve glances at the notebook, a simple star printed on the red leather. An innocuous design, but Steve recognises it. They all do. Tony strides across the room, picks the notebook up, and immediately disappears down the stairs with it. Bucky doesn't relax, though. He's agitated, his body a line of panic and tension, practically vibrating. Tony comes back sans notebook and stops in front of Bucky. His hands hover uncertainly over the expanse of Bucky's shoulders, momentarily shaking a mere inch from the red Henley that Bucky is wearing, before Tony visibly swallows and lowers his hands to grip the others man's biceps.

“It's gone. I promise. It's gone. Now, I think T'Challa has some things to say. Your majesty?”

Steve faces the Wakandan prince but still keeps an eye on Bucky. T'Challa explains how advanced Wakanda is, regardless of how the country is viewed by the rest of the world. His sister and their team of medical staff have technology, leaps and bounds ahead of what is standard throughout the world, that can erase the trigger words and damage done to Bucky's brain. Steve knew about Wakanda, he knows they all knew, and this isn't any new information, but this is refuge offered without violence, help given without their lives hanging in the balance. Steve wants to agree to it on Bucky's behalf, but he refrains. This is a choice only Bucky can make.

Before Bucky can speak, Tony interrupts, explaining to both T'Challa and Steve's best friend how the Accords came to be. He even tells Bucky that Shuri is his best hope, that if anyone can do it, it's her. And isn't it just like Tony, to forget the massive ego he allegedly has in order to praise someone possibly more intelligent than he is. Bucky agrees with little fanfare, and T'Challa nods once, steps away to get in contact with the appropriate people.

A knock sounds on Steve's door later that evening, once Bucky is in his section of the rooms, locked down and away from others; the rest of the team is watching movies, celebrating the win by being together. Steve sets his charcoal down, brushes his hands on a scrap piece of cloth, and crosses the room. Tony stands on the other side of the door.

“I wanna bring Spiderman in.”

“What?”

“I. Want to bring. Spiderman. In. To the team.”

“Tony, he's sixteen.”

“I'm aware of that. But, Steve… If we don't bring him in, under our protection, where he can be watched and trained and _protected_ , he’ll be doing this anyway just, just on his own and without us for backup. I give him a month until he runs into something bigger than him, and it could very well kill him. And I can't, I can't have that on my conscience.”

“He's right,” comes Clint's voice from the ventilation shafts, and Steve sighs as a clattering echoes through the corridor and suddenly the man himself drops down to stand slightly behind Tony. “The kid can fight as it is, but without proper training, he's gonna get very overwhelmed very fast.”

“I know. I know, you're both right, but I really don't like the idea of having a _kid_ fighting when he should be focusing on being a kid.”

“Says the man who was intent on going off to war as soon as he was able, 4Fs be damned.”

Steve glares at Tony, but he knows there's no heat to it. It's more of a habitual kind of thing by now. “Low blow, Stark. Fine, we can set up a meeting with him, his parents ー”

“His aunt.”

“Why his aunt?”

“He, uh, she's his guardian. And I don't think he wants her knowing what's going on.”

“ _Fine_. Him and Coulson, then. But I reserve the right to veto him getting on the team, and we better not ever have to lie to his aunt.”

“I promise, Cap, you won't have to lie to her.”

Steve ignores the subtle emphasis on the _you_.

The next couple of days pass slowly, uneventfully. Steve goes back to his routine: Wake up, go for a run, shower, breakfast, answering fan-mail (which will never get less surreal to him; he never would have imagined growing up that he'd have _fans_ as an adult), lunch, spending time in the workshop with the bots and Tony whenever he's around, sparring with Natasha and Clint, dinner, movies or games, bed, just to repeat it all the next day. The hours he spends down in the 'shop are a relief against the barrage of news playing on every station, daytime talk shows and radio segments all rehashing the exact same things over and over until Steve feels like he could scream from the monotony. Reporters and newscasters all over the country have given mixed reactions to the signing of the Accords. Some more conservative ones say the Avengers ー and _all_ superhumans ー should be on a roster somewhere, with stricter guidelines and less freedoms, locked up somewhere away from 'normal civilians’; it took five hours for Steve to listen to reason and overpower the visceral urge to show up on their doorsteps reminding them that the last time something like that happened, the world was at war against Nazis. Other people have said that the Accords could only end badly, that putting restrictions on the people saving the world could only serve to prevent rapid response in the case of impending world doom. There are only a small handful who praise the Avengers for doing their part in not overstepping their boundaries and putting limitations on their powers.

Coulson showed up on the second day after T'Challa and Bucky left for Wakanda, an enormous file in his hand. “These are the dossiers on the ones who will be deciding where you go and whether you go.”

Thankfully, none of them seemed to have viewpoints too wildly different or in contrast to the main goal. So that was one more thing taken care of. Tony and Steve celebrated this small victory by sitting on the landing pad, wrapped in an enormous thick blanket, and let the lights from the city wash over them, little beacons of humanity that they regularly protect and fight for, as the wind breezed briskly around them and the glass of scotch Tony brought with him went ignored.

And now it's been four days, and there's a fidgeting, nervous-looking teenager sitting in one of the chairs in the conference room. Steve watches the kid spin from side to side in the chair, foot tapping against the floor. Tony breezes past where Steve stands in the doorway and tosses a manilla envelope onto the table so that it slides across the surface to stop in front of the kid.

“Peter Parker, sixteen, Queens, Midtown School of Science and Technology, best friend is Ned Leeds, guardian is aunt, May Parker ー”

“Am I… am I gonna be killed by _Tony Stark_?”

“What, _no_ , jesus, kid, what the Hell is wrong with you.” Tony breathes deeply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “No, no one is getting killed, Steve, help me please, I don't know how to even…”

“Oh my god it’s Captain America oh uh hi s-sir.”

“Hi, you can just call me Steve.” Steve takes a seat at the table across from Peter, giving the kid what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “You're not here to get killed, but we do need to talk to you.”

“I didn't do it.”

Tony scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Calm down, we know. We wanted to have a face-to-face with you, get your opinion about joining the Avengers.”

“You're kidding.”

“No. We don't, or at least _Steve_ doesn't, think that you should even be a superhero, but the thing is, you're going to keep being the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman whether you have backup or not, and if you join us, you'll have the required training to not die five minutes in, and you'll have someone to help on the bigger things.”

“Mr Stark, with all due respect, I've been doing this for a while without help, so I, I really think I have it covered.”

“With all due respect, Mr Parker, no, you really don't. There… There are things coming that no one person can handle, let alone a teenager who makes his webbing in the drawer of a chem lab table.”

“You, uh, you know about that?”

“Yes, I have eyes and ears everywhere. Anyway, what do you say?”

“Are you gonna tell Aunt May?” Peter asks quietly after a few minutes; his face is turned toward the envelope on the table, and Steve wonders how long it will take for the teen to get curious enough to open it.

“No, we won't.” Steve leans forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop. “I won’t lie, I think you should, I think someone should know in case something happens, but we won't tell May if you really don't want us to.”

“Please don't. I promise I will, eventually, but… I don't want her to worry about me, more than she already does, I mean, and I know if she finds out I'm Spiderman, she's going to freak out even more, and I kinda don't wanna have to deal with that unless it's absolutely necessary, I mean, she's going to ground me or something, and then I can't be Spiderman, and, oh god, I can't tell May!”

Steve's phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out under the table to see _You're on your own good luck have fun!_ on the screen. Looking around, he sees that Tony's made a surreptitious getaway sometime in the middle of Peter's freakout. He sighs, puts his phone away, and asks himself if it would be the coward's way out to call for Sam.

It takes almost an hour, but eventually, Peter leaves significantly less panicky, promising that he will tell his aunt soon, the manilla envelope tucked safely in his backpack. Steve sends a text to Tony as he makes his way to the gym.

_You are a COWARD, Tony Stark._

_Damn straight, I don't deal with kids_ comes back almost immediately, and Steve barks out a laugh at that. He knows it's a blatant lie ー even without witnessing him around children at the hospitals and homeless shelters they volunteer at, Tony still has that kid in Tennessee that he keeps in contact with. It had been hilarious at first to see Tony wearing a beat-up Dora watch then heartwarming when Tony explained the story behind how he got it from Harley, who'd been an enormous help (“and pain in the ass, let's not forget that”) when the suit was down.

He sends back _Liar_ , puts his phone in his locker, and changes into a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt.

Not even two full weeks later, the Accords have been announced as law, the world still hasn't ended, and the team is enjoying the stretch of silence and peace of being able to be human, not superheroes. They've all just been doing what they want ー Natasha and Clint take over training Wanda, Sam, and now Peter; Sam works at the VA and volunteers at local homeless shelters; Tony spends most of his days at SI’s R&D department, even giving Peter an internship, dragging Bruce along more often than not; Thor spends the hours roaming the city, looking for new friends to make and adventures to be had, because he is still so curious as to what Midgard can offer though he's been on Earth for a few years already; and Steve whiles away the time with sparring, occasional training sessions, his art, and video calls with T'Challa and Shuri about Bucky's progress. They've reassured him that Bucky will be able to come back within a few months. _He won't be the same as you knew him, Captain, but he will no longer be the weapon he was forced to be._ Which is… It's good enough for Steve. It's more than he could have ever asked for.

The team is in the middle of watching _Star Trek: the Next Generation_ when a small dot appears in the centre of the room. It's tiny, unobtrusive, and it doesn't catch anyone's attention at first. Not until it grows in diameter, becoming less of a black circle and more of a blinding, gaping chasm in the air. Clint yelps, falls backwards off the counter that he's perched on, and Tony's suddenly on his feet, his watch expanding to become a gauntlet over his hand, and he aims the gleaming repulsor at the hole. Natasha crouches with twin blades in hand, and Bruce hurtles out of the room so that he doesn't Hulk out before he's needed. Mjølnir flies across the room and into Thor's outstretched hand. Steve stands side by side with Tony; he doesn't have his shield, doesn't have any weapons, but he's proficient enough with hand-to-hand combat, could probably assist with taking down whatever is about to come through. Sam has a knife in one hand, a throw pillow in the other.

“What, don't think a pillow can help in a fight?” he snarks at Steve's questioning look.

Steve has no time to respond, as the edges of the hole shift, distort, and a figure steps through. It's anticlimactic, really, the way the portal snaps closed with an echoing _pop_ , and the woman stretches to full-height. Her hair shifts minutely as if brushed by a small breeze, but the air is still. Steve takes in the sight of her, from her bare feet up her long legs to the elegantly uneven hemline of her gown that falls to the middle of her thighs. He focuses next on her face, on which an enormous smile sits.

“Oh, well done! Well done, all of you. I was afraid that you would do nothing that needed to be done, but you _did_ , you did everything! Congratulations, Avengers.”

“Who are you? Why are you here?”

“Ah, Mr Stark, I am so pleased to see that you and the good Captain have ー”

“Yes, we're friends, rah rah, now answer my question. Who are you? And why the hell have you come here in the middle of the living room of _my_ tower?”

The woman cocks her head. “Friends? Ah, well, can't expect everything to come as it should. As to your inquiries, I am what you mortals have dubbed Fate. I keep watch over all the realms, keep watch over what is written in the stars. I control what comes to pass, what is destined. I… May I sit, please? I've travelled a long distance, and this is best told when I am comfortable.”

As one, the team lowers their weapons, though none of them relax fully. The woman ー Fate, evidently ー takes a seat in the armchair Bruce vacated, brushing a lock of hair, the colour of sunshine, from her rosy cheeks. Now that he's not on high-alert, Steve can see the lines in her face, gathered at the corners of her eyes and lips, grooves in the surface of her forehead. There's an ancient knowledge in her eyes, a vivid amethyst, that speaks of millennia of experience set beneath delicate brows. Her thick, dark lashes fan her cheeks when she blinks, slow and graceful even in that small motion. The others follow suit, sitting with cautious movements though she gives them no more reason to be so wary apart from her still unexplained presence. She gives them all a faint smile.

“Since before the dawn of civilisations, I have been Keeper of Fates, Watcher over the destinies written far before your time, spanning far after you will be gone. I foresaw the greatest team of defenders this universe has seen in a very long time, falling apart because of the hands of someone else, when there was a greater threat just beyond the horizon. I've grown to be quite fond of you, all of you, and I knew that if this universe, all the realms I watch over, all the different universes attached to this one, were to survive, you must not be allowed to separate. So, I went against the rules. I warned you all. It needed to be done, and I so hoped that you would take the warning seriously, that you would do all in your power to not let it happen.

“If I were to be found out for having interfered, I… I do not even wish to speak of the consequences I would face. I broke the oath I took so long ago, but I do not regret this decision. You have proven yourselves worthy of the title bestowed upon you ー Earth's mightiest heroes. Stay together, no matter what happens. More than just Earth and its inhabitants will need you soon. In less time than I fear.

“Now, with that, I must go. I have my duties that I am neglecting in order to explain myself. Congratulations again, Avengers. Remember that you _must stay together_. And you, Mr Stark, Captain Rogers, please do pull your heads out of your asses. Goodbye, Avengers. I shall be keeping an eye on you.”

The portal appears with a wave of her hand, and between one blink and the next, she's gone, and there is no evidence of her presence. Steve's cheeks are hot, her words echoing in his mind; he avoids looking to his left to see if Tony's as gobsmacked as he is, but judging by everyone else's expressions, he's definitely not the only one reeling. The silence stretches, breaking only when someone clears their throat from behind the couch.

"Is it safe to come back?”

Clint is the first to laugh at Bruce's words, and the others join in. Their laughter is slightly hysterical, but Steve can't blame any of them for it. The show on the television plays on, ignored as the group gradually lets go of the tension.

It's almost a reprieve, the way the team is called to assemble five days after Fate’s visit due to a sudden appearance of Doombots taking over Long Island. The committee doesn't hesitate to call for the Avengers, and the Avengers don't hesitate to suit up and answer the call. Spiderman assists, his technique still his own but more practiced, more refined. He fits in quite well with the team, as his constant commentary is very similar to Clint's and is oddly endearing to Natasha and Sam. The bots are dismantled in record time, cleanup is left to SHIELD, and the team heads home within a couple of hours. Tony has JARVIS order enough Chinese food to feed a small army before disappearing to the workshop; Clint, Wanda, and Sam head off to their rooms to clean up, while Natasha helps Bruce to his lab so he can decompress after having been Hulk and being shot at. Thor makes his way to the kitchen to prepare for the delivery of food, pulling plates from cabinets and silverware from drawers, placing them on the table. Steve rushes through a shower, changes into a pair of boxers and worn sweatpants. He's just pulled a t-shirt on over his head when there's a knock on the bedroom door.

“You decent, Cap?”

“Yeah, come on in.”

“Well, damn, I was hoping I'd catch some sort of glimpse.” Tony smirks, but it quickly settles into a smile that's less lascivious, more fond. “How are you feeling? Looked like you got hit pretty hard.”

Steve shrugs. “I'm fine. Nothing’s broken, not even bruised.”

“Good, good. Glad to, uh, glad to hear it. Really, glad to know the uniform does a good job of protecting you, so what the hell do you think that woman meant?”

“I…have no idea, honestly. I mean, it's pretty anatomically impossible to get your head up your own ass, so beats me.”

“Steve, I love the snark and sass, I really do, but be serious, oh my god, did those words come out of my mouth.”

“Yes,” laughs Steve, “yes, they did. Never thought I'd see the day.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything. Is there...something you need to tell me?”

“Like what? Tony, you know me better than I know myself, sometimes, so what could there be that I haven't told you?”

“I dunno,” Tony replies, and gods, Steve knows that look in Tony's eyes, he's seen it a million times before in his own when he looks in the mirror, he's _felt_ that way a million times before.

“Tony?”

“Nothing, this was dumb, ignore me. Food will be here soon. See ya down there. In the kitchen. For dinner.”

Steve grabs for Tony's wrist, gentling his touch once he has a hold. Tony stares down at the fingers wrapped around his arm; his eyes widen infinitesimally when Steve shifts his hand until their palms are pressed together. He laces his fingers with Tony's, bringing their joined hands to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of Tony's hand, a feather-light brush of his lips against skin. When Steve looks up again, Tony's cheeks are flushed a beautiful pink, and he's staring at Steve with a tiny, shy, hopeful smile, just barely tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I think… I think she meant this.”

Tony swallows, hard, and Steve watches his face closely; a flicker of uncertainty followed by the pure determination that Steve has come to know and love, even when he hates it. “Yeah, maybe she did.” A quick smile then Tony is tugging on Steve's hand. “Come on, Cap, we have a family waiting.”

“Yeah, we do, don't we.”

It's far more than Steve ever expected for his life. It's had its ups and downs, far too many downs, that he never dared dream for a family beyond what he used to have. But he'll always have his Ma and Peggy and the Commandos, and he's gotten Bucky back ー or as close to Bucky as he'll ever be again, and it's enough, it _is_ ー but this is something else entirely. This is a family he found in a group of people shoved under his care, his command; a group he never expected to work so well, both on and off the battlefield; a group of people he trusts to have his back, a group he loves. And now, he's got Tony in a completely different way. Rocky start notwithstanding, he's always admired Tony, always thought there was more than meets the eye, always wanted to learn everything he could. He knows now he never will know everything about Tony, and he's accepted it, but he thinks maybe, just maybe, it won't be so hard to learn more.

They stop in the doorway to the kitchen. Tony's shoulders start shaking, his breath wheezing out through tightly-pressed lips, and Steve gapes at the sight of a fully-costumed Spiderman crawling across the ceiling. In the blink of an eye, Peter drops down, his web holding securely to the ceiling, and steals the last wonton and spring roll off of Natasha's plate. She moves far more slowly than Steve knows she's capable of, feigns that she is going to stab Peter’s hand with a chopstick, but she's laughing the rare, real laugh that she only lets loose when she's comfortable, feeling safe. Everyone is talking, arguing good-naturedly, eating and sharing the food, and Steve's chest burns with the warmth of so much love for this insane, reckless, wonderful family he's made. Tony squeezes his hand, and Steve smiles widely back, pulling Tony along as he joins the group at the table.

**Author's Note:**

> JARVIS is in this at the same time as Wanda because I love him too much to not include him. In that wonderful hand-wavy method most authors use, I'm going with _JARVIS is a sneaky little shit and had himself backed up in deep deep hiding and Ultron was too intent on taking over to actually find every last bit of JARVIS and JARVIS left a hint that only Tony would've been able to decode_. So yeah, JARVIS is still in the tower and other houses that Tony owns, and FRIDAY runs the compound and the suits


End file.
